


everything i wanted

by everylosttouch



Series: the dark, the cold, the lonely [2]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Depression, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Insecure Alec Lightwood, M/M, Magnus talks him through it, POV Alec Lightwood, Self-Worth Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, another goddamn vent fic, what are endings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:40:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22090252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everylosttouch/pseuds/everylosttouch
Summary: in which the self-loathing and dark thoughts consume Alec, and Magnus won’t let him disappear.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Series: the dark, the cold, the lonely [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1606948
Comments: 8
Kudos: 166





	everything i wanted

**Author's Note:**

> _And you say, “As long as I’m here, no one can hurt you  
Don’t wanna lie here, but you can learn to  
If I could change the way that you see yourself  
You wouldn’t wonder why you hear  
“They don’t deserve you”_
> 
> title from billie eilish’s song ‘everything i wanted’
> 
> Tw for suicide talk/suicidal thoughts and references to self harm/cutting

He wakes up in the morning.

It’s the time of morning where the sun has yet to reach over the horizon, where the moon shines through the blinds and across the grain of the darkened wood floors. The world has stopped around him almost, with stark silence cutting through the space in his room. The only evidence of time is the static lull of the clock to his right, who’s blaring light illuminates the planes of his face an the folds of the blankets under him. It’s slow to turn, and every minute it takes for the clock to change feels longer and longer.

3:35.

It mocks like a child, itches at him like an irritated wound. There’s a laughing he can distantly hear, ringing in his ears. The red glow of the numbers haunts him like a ghost. Is it even possible to be haunted by a color?

_It’s all your fault._

The thought cuts through the silence of the room like a knife. It’s clean cut and clear, echoing in every inch and crevice of his body. That’s right. It’s all his fault. He’s never been good enough, always second best. His body exists in the shadows of others, overseen by their golden light, unappreciated for whatever he does to make them shine brighter.

Alec can claim he’s used to it. But he’s not. It never ceases to ache, knowing he will always be overturned and pushed aside for the person who will always be better. He knows that with every chance he does get, there will always be something—anything—that is just short of perfect. That imperfection makes him useless, unable to match up to the expectations of those around him.

_You’re useless._

The self-loathing and disdain storm into his chest all at once. Like angry waves, they surge and crash against the cavity of his chest, suffocating him. It doesn’t stop, an onslaught of emotions that he can’t control. His body feels heavy with each crash. It hurts to breathe. His shoulders are shaking. The cold seeps in through his toes and up his spine.

_You’re best just isn’t good enough._

_You’ll never be good enough._

He’s wide awake at this point, and yet he already feels so exhausted. There’s only so many nights he can take of this, of feeling so horribly odd and useless, like a puzzle piece that won’t fit no matter how you try and orient it. Every movement feels like too much. Each blink, intake of breath, and twitch of his fingers feels like a waste. He’s taking air that someone else can use more, wasting space that can be more useful.

_It’s too much._

_It’s too much_, he repeats to himself, running cold fingers against raised edges of skin along his arms. They’ve all healed over, but he wishes there was a way he could open them again, just let them flow until there’s nothing left of him.

The light outside flickers, drawing Alec’s eyes up. _There’s a balcony up there, _he reminds himself. There’s a rooftop he can look down from, an edge he can feel his feet dangle over. There’s a cold hard ground below, one that’d crumple his hard and exhausted bones. It’d give relief. He’d finally be freed from this torment.

_Do it._

His mind is a malevolent force, eager and willing for him to rise from the bed. If he wasn’t so tired, maybe he’d put up a fight. But not now. Now, he just wants relief.

With one last look to the clock, he pulls his heavy limbs upward. One decimated arm comes into view, with haunting memories etched into the cells. The sound of silk shifting is far louder than he’d like, and he builds up a sweat trying to untangle himself from the sheets that stick to his legs.

He gets maybe five paces from the bed, just far enough to grab his old cardigan, before there’s another break in the silence.

“Alexander?”

He tugs down the sleeves harshly, pinching the fabric up to his palms. There’s a desperate attempt to ignore the gentle, sleep-ridden call of his name. Maybe he’ll think he got a call into work, go back to sleep, blissfully ignore the fact that Alec is trying to cut the ties of his body bound to this horrible world.

“Alexander,” it calls, a bit louder. There’s firmness in the tone, dominant and insistent.

“What,” he whispers back, not even daring to turn around to meet his lover’s eyes.

“Where are you going?”

“Work called,” he lies.

“You’re on leave, Alexander. Don’t lie to me.”

_I want to kill myself,_ he thinks. “Fine. I’m…just getting water.”

There’s a long stretch of silence that is too loud in Alec’s ears. He waits patiently, thinking maybe—just maybe—Magnus will go back to sleep, but no. He flinches at the tentative touch to his shoulder, slowly brushing across the expanse of his muscled back.

“Sweetheart, there’s water by the bed.” With that statement, his lover moves into his field of vision. His dark eyes, normally caged in by dark lines of kohl, are bare. There’s exhaustion in them, but also something more, something softer. “Please, Alexander. I’m not mad at you. I just want to know what’s got you so wound up.”

Alec’s lip quivers, head ducking down between his shoulders as his gaze fixates on the frayed edges of the cardigan. He’s feels so big and clumsy in the space of the room, and his mind continually mocks him. _Die. Die. Die._

“It hurts,” he says simply.

Magnus’ eyes cast down, fingers coming to close over Alec’s. “Did you cut again?”

Alec shakes his head. “No. It…It hurts to breathe,” he confesses on a whisper. “I don’t want it to hurt anymore.”

There’s a realization that hits his lover, based on the slight hitch in his breath and the sudden squeeze of his fingers. _I’m useless,_ Alec thinks. _You don’t deserve something so broken._

“Come back to bed,” Magnus begs. “I’ll turn on the TV, and we can watch something together, okay?”

“But I want to die.”

Magnus’ lips tremble then, and it’s clear that Alec has shattered his lover completely. He wants to die so much, so much so that he tries to abandon his lover in the bedroom they share and step off the edge of the rooftop above them.

“I…I know that feels like the easiest thing to do,” Magnus starts, desperately trying to keep his voice steady. “But it’s not easy for anyone else. I know you think you might be helping me, helping your family by doing that. But you won’t. Those thoughts of yours won’t tell you what will happen after, how heartbroken your family and I will be. They won’t tell you about all the tears your mother will cry every night before she goes to sleep, about how your sister will feel so lonely because the brother she cherishes is gone. They won’t tell you how I won’t be able to come home without thinking of you stepping off that ledge, how I won’t be able to live with myself knowing that I was the last person to see you alive and couldn’t do a damn thing to prevent it.”

Magnus hands pull Alec’s away from where he’s cradled them at his chest. His eyes meet Alec’s, so full of desperation and pleading.

“_Please, Alexander,_” he pleads, voice breaking as it passes from his lips. “There are so many people around you that love and cherish you. People who want you around. So please…please don’t leave me.”

Alec doesn’t move then, doesn’t really do anything. He doesn’t push Magnus away, despite what the thoughts running rampant in his head say. But he doesn’t step closer, doesn’t fall into Magnus’ embrace because he still desperately wants to die.

Magnus seems to notice, moving for him as he pulls Alec’s hands gently with him, guiding him back into the bed. The plush surface is already more comforting than the cold hardwood, and Magnus’ heat against his body floods him with a familiar sense of warmth.

Eyes never wavering from his lover, he turns on the TV, it’s brightened glow making them wince slightly. He changes it to the movie channel, playing some movie he neither of them quite recognize. With a breath, he eases the both of them down onto the mattress, pressing up to Alec’s back and placing gentle kisses to the nape of his neck.

“I love you,” he whispers, kissing the skin gently. “I’m glad you’re alive. You are so important to me.”

It continues for awhile like that, with whispered reassurances and soft, gentle kisses. Magnus’ hands run up and down Alec’s body, passing his warmth into his lover’s. The TV plays, dispelling the silence that once reigned in the room.

Maybe halfway through the movie, does Magnus hear from his boyfriend again.

“Thank you,” he whispers. “For staying with me.”

Magnus hums, leaning down to brush his nose against the nape of Alec’s neck. “I’m not going anywhere, Alexander. I will always be here for you.”

And with that, they drift back into silence, watching the movie until both of them are consumed by exhaustion.

Alec doesn’t die that night.

Instead, he lives.

**Author's Note:**

> yell at me over on twitter @the_biconic_mb


End file.
